There Is No Guilt in Distance

I hope that when you call, stirred from self-inflicted isolation, someone answers and when you’re riddled with the guilt of distance, convinced you don’t deserve to hear their voice, they understand that it’s much easier to wilt in cool, dark silence than in the company of friends, who suddenly seem like strangers because how can they really feel familiar if you don’t even know yourself?

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I hope that when you finally unbury yourself from your fort of pillows and ruffled sheets to seek humanly comfort, someone is patient enough to hold you and remember the times when they too were desperate to be heard and seen, unjudged because we all have those moments, don’t we?

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I hope that when you look at yourself in the mirror after years of soulful neglect, you find the courage for forgiveness, the strength to rebuild, and not forget, but somehow move on because healing can’t exist without finding peace and distance from your unwanted past.

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I hope you find distaste in habitual toxicity, the things you carry that will eventually break your sapped body if you let them, and when you think, in some way, they will fix you, I hope you discover a muse that sparks change because the fire of revival is buried, however deep, in your weary core.

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I hope that when you read this, seeking refuge from distress in a stranger’s words, you understand there is no guilt in distance when being a wallflower is too painful, when it’s easier to burrow in cool, dark loneliness than face the light of disappointment because I, too, remember those moments, buried in a cloud of blankets, desperate to be heard and seen, unjudged.